


high flight risk

by WhereverMyWay



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Additional Tags In Chapters, Age Difference, Anal Sex, Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Moral Ambiguity, Past Sexual Assault, Porn With Plot, Profanity, Smoking, Taboo, Teacher-Student Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships, but it was in the past and not detailed, rapidly approaching darkfic territory, references to a clockwork orange, there's kinks in here but they're tagged separately in chapter notes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 08:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27348127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhereverMyWay/pseuds/WhereverMyWay
Summary: Han Jisung, an 18-year-old high school senior, is failing his English class and hedesperatelyneeds to pass. His teacher, Bang Chan, a 24-year old recent university graduate and first year teacher, offers to give Jisung extra lessons to help him out. Chan wants to help his misunderstood student, and understand why exactly the teachers talk about Jisung in hushed tones, why they label him, along with a few other students, as "high flight risks". What did that even mean?Seemingly bright and happy Jisung, however, has been using these special study sessions to unabashedly flirt with his precious teacher, and it haunts Chan's dreams, causing him to wake up hard almost every morning. When it's revealed that Jisung doesn't really need these lessons, their relationship hits a wall. Where do they go from here? They shouldn't flirt, shouldn't act so dangerously around each other when they're alone, but they can't help it.Alternatively: Don't fuck your students. Don't fuck your teachers. It never ends well.-please check the individual chapter tags. parts one, two, and three are all going to be incredibly different. this work of fiction is not for the faint of heart.
Relationships: Bang Chan/Han Jisung | Han
Comments: 26
Kudos: 128





	high flight risk

**Author's Note:**

> **disclaimer: this is a work of fiction!** any reference to persons in this work of fiction are purely coincidental. the characters referenced from Stray Kids are interpretations loosely based on their personalities in the group and do not represent the real people behind the personas. if this, or any of the content included in the warnings above make you uncomfortable, please stop reading now. there is an inherently unfair power dynamic with teacher/students that is unhealthy and it's briefly discussed in this. the teacher/student dynamic is not the same as consensual Dominance/submission, but i have added elements of consensual D/s into this because, frankly, i wanted to. please be aware of this as you read through.
> 
> jisung is of legal age to participate in sexual activity in this, just barely. he's 18 and a half. chan is 24. if that bothers you, this fic is not for you. this fic contains actual student/teacher relationships. if this bothers you, this fic is not for you. technically, this contains underage smoking and (possibly) drinking, since the legal age for both in south korea is 19. age of consent is 18.  
> (NOTE: these are international, not korean ages)
> 
> alright! so, fun fact: i got my sources fucked up and south korean graduation (for most schools) happens in february, not in summer like i initially read. please ignore that detail because the entire plot kind of revolves around this and i definitely fucked this up. this will just be a unique academy that has an exception for plot convenience. sorry for getting it wrong, but hopefully y'all can laugh with me about this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is a lot of triggering content in this chapter, including, but not limited to: teacher/student relationships, references to prior sexual assault to minor by an adult, references to self-harm, someone burning themselves with a lit cigarette, discussions of other students dying by suicide or attempting to do so.  
> as for chapter kinks: BDSM (Dom/sub, impact play, aftercare), masturbation, sex toys, watersports, dacryphilia, edging, degradation. 
> 
> there's an underlying meta analysis of how terrible the heavy pressure to succeed is in south korea is throughout the entire fic, and i could talk about it for days, but i won't.

Cold, tense air enveloped two men in an empty classroom, the light of sunset painting the room in hues of oranges, reds, and purples. It had to have been late by now, nearly time for this study session to finally draw to a close. “You do realize,” a man with brown hair leans up against a table littered with paperwork grumbles, adjusting his glasses, “Jisung, if you don’t pass this next exam, you’re going to fail this class. If you fail this class, you’re going to be in serious academic trouble. Your university placements are going to be in jeopardy.”

“I know, I know,” the younger, blond-haired man seated at the table whines, dramatically flopping onto all of the open books and strewn-about papers. He turns his head to look up to the brunette and whimpers, eyes open wide and slightly teary. “I’m gonna do anything it takes. I’m not going to let you down, teach.”

Chan hated the way that Jisung looked up to him like that. He appreciated the dedication Jisung was trying to put forth, but the fact of the matter was, no matter how many times they spent several hours a week after school for extra tutoring; he simply wasn’t making enough progress. Part of Chan suspected that Jisung was doing this on purpose, that all of his fuck-ups were deliberate and ill-intentioned. His homework always came in great, nearly perfect, but his exams, the largest parts of his grade, were almost always perfect failures. It was frustrating as all hell to see someone so smart do so poorly.

Perhaps that was just the sex-starved part of Chan — the part that was desperately trying to ignore — it was feeding him a racy fantasy he would never, and _should_ never, participate in.

“Did you hear me, Mr. Bang?” Jisung’s soft voice pulled Chan from his thoughts. The younger man sat up, pressing his palms into the seat of his chair, leaning in far too closely into Chan’s personal space. He lowered his voice, lifted his chin, and let his eyelids flutter halfway closed. “I said I’ll do _anything_. I’m going to pass this class.”

Chan bit his lip so hard, he was sure he was drawing blood. It took everything in him not to say or do anything that would get him fired or in any sort of legal trouble. Sure, Jisung was eighteen, but something about even entertaining the fantasy running through his head felt so wrong. 

“Jisung,” he managed to sputter out, but the younger man was already down on his knees in front of him, fumbling with his belt buckle.

“Don’t say anything.” the younger man whimpers, pressing the heel of his palm against Chan’s rapidly firming erection. “I might be younger than you, and I might not be very good at English, but I know my way around a cock.”

Chan shook his head fervently, his breath increasing in pace as he started to panic, looking over his shoulders. “We shouldn’t do this. Definitely not here.”

“You’re not stopping me.”

Jisung had a point: Chan wasn’t stopping him. He didn’t _want_ to stop him.

“You’ve gotta get up, though,” he whispers, just as he pulls Chan’s cock free from his pants and boxers. “You can’t stay here forever, Chan.”

Chan furrows his brows in confusion. His students never referred to him by his first name. Sure, he already had an exception, able to call him “teach” as a nickname when they were alone. Under no circumstances, however, were his students allowed to call him by his first name; granted, they weren’t allowed to drop to their knees and offer their teacher head, either. “What are you talking about, Jisung?”

The younger man licks a long, slow strip from the base of Chan’s cock all the way up to the head, precum already beading up at the tip. “Don’t you hear that?” His voice is softer now, and a trill starts to crescendo into Chan’s ears. Jisung takes his lips and creates a vacuum seal around Chan’s head, sucking lightly enough and flicking little licks against it. The sensation was enough to cause the older man’s head to spin.

Then, suddenly, Jisung releases Chan from his mouth. “You’ve gotta wake up.”

 _Fuck_.

Chan bolts upright, his alarm blaring and reverberating through his empty room. He slams his head back down into his pillow and growls a throaty moan as he realizes he was having a dream — a very nice dream, all things considered — but it was interrupted. He reaches over to his nightstand, unplugging his phone and turning the alarm off. Once he was awake enough, he looked down to the painful tent in his briefs and sighed.

“Another fucking dream about him,” he grumbled, sinking back into bed. He lifted his phone and looked at the display. 05:20. There was enough time to quickly get himself off, he figured, as his hand trailed down and slipped his cock out of his briefs. It wouldn’t take long, not with the image of Jisung’s pretty face and his lovely lips still burned into his head.

“Please, Mr. Bang, please.” He heard the way his voice would whine his name and title, so crisp and fresh in his head. The way that Jisung said it was special, different from the way the rest of his students said it. Perhaps it was all of the extra hours they spent together. Perhaps Chan was desperately grasping for any reason to believe that one of his students might be interested in him. He didn't want any student, though. No. He wasn’t a pervert, nor was he a creep. He just wanted Jisung.

Maybe he was a bit of a creep for that, though.

“Fuck me,” Chan could hear Jisung whimper and mewl as he imagined bending him over his desk. The mental image of what Jisung’s bare back and soft ass looked like as his skin rippled from the vibration of being thrust into was so much to handle. The way that Jisung would desperately grasp for purchase onto anything and fail, the look on his face as Chan’s dick would rub up against his prostate in that position. The pleading look in Jisung’s eyes as he cried out for his teacher. _Him_.

“Jisung!” Chan gripped a fistful of his comforter with his free hand as he cried out, cum shooting up and landing on his bare stomach and his sheets. He furiously panted, coming down from his high, and the waves of guilt and shame washed over him.

That was the second time that week he would have to wash his sheets, and it was only Wednesday.

* * *

“Hey, Mr. Bang!” An excited voice perked up at the end of class. It was the last class of the day, and it was arguably Chan’s favourite part of the day, on his favourite day of the week: Friday. He had no other responsibilities after his scheduled private lesson, and he could go out and get drunk and eat unhealthy food.

“Hi, Jisung,” the brunette smiled, looking up from his phone for just a moment as he sat at his desk. “Give me a second, I’m just sending off an email.”

A firm slap against the table, a bound stack of papers underneath the hand, confirms that Chan’s email wasn’t really that important. Chan sighed, locking his phone and looking up Jisung’s skinny arm, a bit slower than he should’ve, and then locking eyes with the young man in front of him. He had an excited grin on his face, his slightly crooked, large teeth on proud display. 

“I told you I’d get this one!” Chan already knew that Jisung had done perfectly on yet another extensive essay assignment, but this one was worth fifteen percent of the entire semester’s grade. It wouldn’t be enough to bring his grade up to pass without a perfect grade on his final, but it did help, nonetheless. “What did you think about the topic?”

“I do have to say,” Chan folded his hands, throwing them back behind his head as he reclined in his chair, looking up to his eager student with a smile, “ _A Clockwork Orange_ was an interesting film for you to analyze. Your assessment was surprisingly in depth and dark. Aside from a few grammatical errors, it was very well done. I was genuinely intrigued by how you went into such detail over the concept of the treatment of Alex’s morally reprehensible behaviour. Most people think it's fine, because he was labelled as a bad person, but you went the completely opposite route.”

A lazy shrug lifted from Jisung’s shoulders, but the coy smile on his face didn't waver. “People are complicated,” he sighs. “I don't think we should shove people into such binary boxes so haphazardly. Sure, Alex did some terrible shit, really awful stuff, but doesn't he deserve to be treated like a normal human being like the rest of us? What makes us so much better than him to where we treat him as lesser? Where do we draw the line? Wouldn’t we, morally speaking, be the same if we tortured him?”

Chan bit his lip and knitted his brows together. How was Jisung so analytical, so well spoken, at just eighteen? Was this in relation to what the teachers talked about? Students were usually never this emotionally mature without some sort of deep, dark, underlying reason. Was Chan even really ready to think about addressing these questions?

Jisung beamed, his bright smile pulling Chan back to reality. “So,” he bopped his head back and forth, poking his index fingers together in front of him, “are we still on for today’s private lesson, or is my English just too good for you to handle?”

There was no way Chan would ever turn Jisung down, even if he was somehow able to perfect everything and somehow turn his terrible grade completely around. He knew he had other students to help, and important projects to finish, but there was something about Jisung that ate up all of his thought processes. He only wanted to spend time helping Jisung, because he knew that the younger man needed it. Not for the education, but for something else. He couldn’t quite place his finger on it, but it was probably something in between human connection and stability.

Chan didn't understand why the other teachers talked down about Jisung, why there were always hushed voices whenever his name passed their desks. “A flight risk,” one of the other young teachers warned Chan during his first week. “Don’t spend too much time on the flight risks. Too much investment, never any payout. You’ll just burn yourself in the long run.”

It was perplexing, because Jisung always seemed warm and happy around Chan. When Chan approached him with a proposal for extra lessons at the end of his first month, Jisung beamed with excitement and happily accepted his offer. “I’ll do my best! If I have you by my side, anything’s possible!”

Chan softly smiled, genuinely happy at the memory that passed through his head.

“ _‘Am I… Interesting?_ ’” Jisung’s voice brought Chan back startlingly fast. The younger man reached out to the manhwa on the desk, but Chan was much faster, his hand reaching out to grab it at near-lightning speed. “Mr. Bang, what is that?”

Chan nervously cleared his throat as he quickly jammed the book into his briefcase. “It’s just a manwha. Nothing that exciting about it.”

“Maybe I could take a look at it? I could try and translate it to help my English, you know.” 

“I’ve got more,” Chan pauses, trying to figure out how exactly he was going to formulate his sentence, “ _educational_ manwha you can use. This series isn’t necessarily a good pick if you want to try and translate, Jisung.”

For a second, it looks like Jisung’s eyes are half-lidded and he’s biting his lip, until he realizes that Chan is looking at him, and he shakes his head. “But that title and the artwork is interesting. Literally. Why can’t I read that one?”

“It’s inappropriate.” Chan doesn't think before the words slip from his mouth, but he manages to quickly correct himself. “It’s… violent. Really violent. Lots of violent content.” There was a rush of panic coursing through his veins as he lied to his student. The content wasn’t violent, it was just explicitly sexual. It wasn't even technically legal to own in South Korea, but an underground studio published the entire series and sold copies of it anyways.

Jisung brings his elbows down onto the table, then puts his head in his hands as he pouts. “But I love violent media. You’d be proud of me, Mr. Bang: I read Watchmen all in English last year and I understood almost all of it!”

The brunette blankly stared at the blond and sighed. There was no way in hell he would ever let any of his students, especially not Jisung, get a hold of this. He knew better than to bring something so risqué to work, and he should’ve just left it at home, but he was too harebrained to really think clearly today. “Maybe I can find a historical manwha or comic book or something with a bit more value than either of those could offer.”

“Mr. Bang,” Jisung whined, sticking his bottom lip out a little further as he pouted. “Come onnn, maybe I could read it for fun, then?”

Chan needed to change the subject, fast. He was running out of creative ways to shut Jisung’s relentless nature down. “Shouldn’t we start working on those extra assignments, Jisung?”

“Aw, come on. You’re no fun, man!” Jisung’s whiny plea caused Chan’s stomach to flip. If only he knew just how fun his teacher actually was, he wouldn’t be complaining at all.

* * *

Today’s lesson felt different. Something in the air made everything seem off, and Chan couldn’t quite place why it felt so odd. Despite his earlier excitement, Jisung didn’t seem very motivated at all for his extra exercises today. 

“Alright,” Chan frowned, walking to the table next to Jisung’s, leaning up against it, pressing his palms into the tabletop. “There’s something on your mind, and I can feel it. You haven’t been yourself since we started this lesson, and I wanna fix that.”

Jisung huffed and pursed his lips as he looked up to Chan. “I just, I know all this shit, man.” He sounded genuinely somewhat frustrated, but it didn’t seem like it was due to the lessons. Every time he made eye contact with his teacher since they started the lesson, there was almost a layer of contempt that the younger man had interwoven in his stare.

A quick huff escaped Chan’s lips as he folded his arms, and crossed his ankle over the other. “You know what,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment and rolled his eyes, “it’s Friday, so let’s do something unconventional.”

Unsurprisingly, Jisung’s eyes lit up as soon as Chan said ‘unconventional’. 

“I want you to tell me a list of your favourite English words, their meanings, and why.” Chan shrugged his shoulders. “I know it doesn’t sound like much, but it’ll change things up a bit, yeah?”

“Fine,” Jisung smirked, leaning back in his chair. “But you asked for it.”

Chan scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Come on, it can’t be that bad.”

As it turns out, Jisung had a very extensive, very creative vocabulary when it came to English. Things started off tame, words like, ‘requisition’ for the way it sounded, ‘unrequited’, because it reminded him of bad TV dramas, ‘surreptitious’, because it was difficult to say and also fun. After that, though, a heavy, thick layer of bad intentions dripped over Jisung’s words like spicy, sticky honey that Chan just couldn’t ignore.

“'Banging', verb if you’re interesting but an adjective if you’re boring. Ironic, since that’s your family name, huh?” Jisung grazed his tongue over his teeth as he stared at Chan, head in his hand. “Oh, right, definition: strike heavily and repeatedly.”

The expression on Chan’s face fell flat. Jisung was just being a hormonal teenager, and sometimes hormonal teenagers said stupid shit. “That’s correct, yeah. What’s your next word?”

“'Wanton', adjective. Could mean merciless, but it also means lewd, if your vocabulary is extensive enough.” 

“Jisung, these are getting a bit out of hand, don’t you think?” Chan insincerely tried to steer the conversation back into a normal direction, but he didn’t try very hard. He was curious to see where this was going. 

“'Risqué', another adjective. A loanword from French.” It seemed like Jisung’s chest was rising and falling more rapidly, more colour was coming into his face. This was dangerous. “Off-colour or indecent. Kinda like my sense of humour, huh?”

Chan shook his head back and forth rapidly. Was this seriously happening? Jisung’s smile was too wide to make it seem like this was a dream. “Seriously, Jisung, this isn’t appropriate to say around your teacher. Your classmates, sure, but…” 

Jisung didn’t listen. ”Words are powerful, but they only have as much power as we give them.” He stood up from his seat, quietly, and stepped his legs around either side of Chan, his hands following suit. He took in a deep inhale, then bent in close, dangerously close to his teacher’s face. “You want to know my favourite English word, teach? You’re definitely not gonna like it if you thought the other ones were bad.”

Chan swallowed hard, his slacks growing infinitely tighter by his student’s brash actions. He should stop this, say no. Maybe this was all a fever dream. Maybe he was about to be told to wake up just before things got good, just like always. He shouldn’t indulge him, but curiosity always won out. “Tell me.”

Jisung was right up against Chan’s ear, now, his teeth practically grazing the skin.

“My favourite word?” The anticipation was killing Chan. There was nothing more he wanted to do than grab those lean hips in front of him and press them up against the table behind him, grip them tightly as he made the younger man beg. “It’s 'fuck'. It’s my favourite word. It has so many uses.” Chan tried so hard to stay focused, but his body was practically screaming at him to take Jisung right there and now. “It can be an interjection, a noun, but my favourite use is when it’s a verb. For example,” Chan’s eyes rolled back into his head at the sensation of Jisung’s breath against his skin, “I could say ‘that’s really fucked’ for an adjective, or I could say ‘what a stupid fuck’ as a noun. But the best usage?” They both knew where this was going, and it wasn’t going to end well.

“I want to _fuck_ you, Mr. Bang.”

Jisung’s breath was uncomfortably hot against Chan’s ear. “I saw that manhwa of yours on your desk. The one you scrambled to hide away earlier. You're not supposed to have obscene materials in class. I know you got that series from the underground.” Chan tensed as Jisung breathed a bit heavier, a bit faster; he dug his nails into the bottom of the desk, trying not to panic as it felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. “You know, I have a copy of the entire series at home. I know everything that happens in the series and I’ve tried out a bit of it myself. Despite what you might think of me, I’m not a very innocent young man, _teach_.”

“Fucking hell,” Chan relented, grabbing Jisung’s waist, hooking his fingers through his belt loops, spinning them around and pinning Jisung to the table. The younger man stared up at him in excitement and awkwardly shifted around a bit as he bit his lip. “I’m not gonna fuck you, not gonna fuck my student.” Chan’s voice wavered, his eyes wide as he stared down at his junior, almost as if he realized he had acted without thinking.

“That’s not what it seems like,” a wide, devious grin spreads across Jisung’s face as he quips, “you just threw me onto the table. Sure seems like you wanna fuck me.”

“I’m not going to fuck you _here_.” Chan somehow managed to push himself off of the table, looking up, nervously glancing at the classroom door. “I’m not gonna lose my career over what my dick wants, Jisung.” He adjusts his necktie, then looks back down to the blond.

The younger man isn’t paying attention. His eyes are fixated on the very obvious erection in front of him, at eye level. “It’s Friday. All of the side lessons are over. Nobody’s here.” Jisung rolls his eyes up, giving Chan a piercing gaze as he licks his lips. “Nobody would know.”

Chan carded his fingers through his hair and took a step backwards, even though he didn’t want to. He wanted to bend Jisung over the table and fuck him relentlessly until his legs turned into gelatine and he was unable to walk. “I’m not making a mess for the janitors to clean up later.” He groaned and shifted his pants by the waistband. “If you seriously wanna do this, we’re going somewhere else.”

This was so, so wrong.

Jisung jumped to his feet and bit his bottom lip in excitement. “Alright, yeah, cool.” He furiously nodded his head up and down, gripping his hands into tight fists in front of him. “I knew you were my favourite teacher, not just because you’re young and hot, either.” 

“You can’t tell anyone about this, Jisung.” The teacher sighed, his stomach in knots about how nervous, yet excited, he was. “This isn’t as cool as you think it is.”

“You're the one that said we should go somewhere else, instead of shutting me down.” Jisung’s lips pressed into a firm line and he folded his arms, looking surprisingly serious. “What’s that say about you and your morality?”

"That doesn't make this cool, Jisung.” Chan huffed as he walked towards his desk, grabbing his briefcase. “It’s a morally grey area, which means it's not cool.”

The younger man grabbed his bag and winked at his teacher. “Counterculture, teach. It’s what I do, all I know how to do. Society says I shouldn’t sleep with my teacher? I say fuck that.” Jisung walked up to Chan’s desk with a sway to his hips, walking all the way around the back, stopping just a few centimetres away from the older man. He brings a swift hand up to Chan’s crotch, causing his teacher to wince and groan. “Fuck what society thinks,” he says in a low, serious tone, “I never liked what society thought of me, anyways.”

Chan knew was going to hell for this, but he didn’t care.

* * *

They had left campus like normal, going their opposite ways. Chan drove a bit away from the school, maybe a block and a half, far enough to know that nobody he knew would’ve really noticed someone getting into his car. Noticed a student getting into a car. 

_His_ student. Into _his_ car.

“What the fuck am I doing?” Chan quietly asked himself, his palms sweating as he tightly gripped his steering wheel. They were lucky it was a Friday night, and Jisung’s parents wouldn’t question their son arriving home late, probably well into the next morning. Fuck, he was seriously worried about what his student’s parents would think. Jisung was eighteen, sure, but he was still a high school student. “This is fucked up.”

It was fucked up, but his cock was throbbing and aching for relief, for just another touch, and it wouldn’t relent unless that touch came from Jisung. 

Almost as if the universe was playing a cruel joke on him, the passenger door opened, startling Chan from his thoughts. Jisung hopped in, tossing his bag into the back seat haphazardly, and turned to grab the seatbelt. “I almost forgot what you told me your car looked like, even though you told me just a few minutes ago. This is really nice, though. Especially for a teacher’s salary.” He straps himself in, then looks up to Chan with a beaming smile. “Shall we?”

“Jisung,” Chan bites his lip and looks at his dashboard. “This is a weird question to ask, but, uh, aren’t your parents going to be worried about you being out late?”

The younger man scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Please,” he grumbles, the smile falling from his face, quickly turning into a scowl, “they don’t give a shit about me, as long as I make it into a top three university. I don’t give a shit about getting into a university at all, honestly.” Jisung sighs heavily, resting back into the seat and he stares off, out far beyond the windshield. “They don’t need to know that I’ve been out fucking around, getting fucked up, and getting fucked while they think I’m out at a prep school they paid for or getting ‘special lessons’ from my teacher.”

Jisung rolls his eyes over to Chan and smirks. “I never needed the extra lessons. You know that, right?”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, Jisung.” Chan shakily reaches into the front pocket of his zip-up hoodie, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “You don’t mind, right?”

Jisung leans over the centre console, his bright doe eyes pleadingly looking up at him. “Only if you give one to me.”

“You can’t legally smoke.”

“Do you think I care?”

Jisung’s snarky attitude was both irritating and enticing to Chan. “You’re a brat, you know.” He takes a cigarette, bringing it up to Jisung’s lips, which the junior gladly accepts. This was a bad idea, but then again, so was fucking his student, and he knew that was on the agenda for tonight, so why stop there? Chan brought up his lighter, flicking the dial twice before the flame sparks to life, and Jisung takes in a deep inhale. 

There was no cough, a clear indicator that he really did do this before. Who exactly was this guy? What was his story? What else was he hiding behind that wide, fake smile he wore? Why were all of the other teachers so quiet whenever it came to talking about Jisung?

Chan shakes his head with a tsk, bringing a cigarette up to his mouth and lighting it. He tosses the pack and the lighter into the cupholder in the centre console, then shifts his car into drive, peeking over his shoulder as he pulls away from the sidewalk. “It’s gonna be probably a half hour. Traffic’s usually bad around this time. Take this,” he mumbles as he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and passes it to Jisung. “Code’s 0325. Don’t be cute and snoop around through my shit, just pick something to listen to.”

A coy smile lifts on Jisung’s face. “What if I pick some terrible trap music that seems to be the cool thing with people in my generation? Gonna kick me out of the car? Get home and then pout about how you have to jerk it to thoughts of me, instead of being able to use me?”

“Seriously?” Chan sighs with frustration, rolling down his window and exhaling a puff of smoke out through it. He was going to try to casually ignore how Jisung’s pointed words travelled straight to his cock. “You do know we’re part of the same generation, right?”

Jisung doesn’t respond, too busy toying around on Chan’s phone. He manages to pick something, making a quip about how he wasn’t surprised that he had The Neighbourhood saved to his library, how ‘typical’ it was. Some unfamiliar rapper’s voice comes through the speakers, and Jisung doesn’t really make a comment about it. “You’ve got weird music tastes. You sure we’re a part of the same generation?”

Chan grumbles as he presses a button a couple of times on his steering wheel, increasing the volume of the music enough to overpower Jisung’s voice. 

“Hey!” Jisung pouts as he protests. “You can’t just try and tune me out because you wanna pretend I’m not funny.”

* * *

Chan had grossly underestimated how bad traffic was going to be. It had to have been a bit over an hour, and they were finally starting to get close to his apartment complex. “Shouldn’t be too much longer,” he muttered, trying to not let his nerves overwhelm him. The absolute last thing he needed was to get into a car accident and explain why he had a student in his car so close to his apartment.

“Mhmm,” Jisung whimpers, almost as if he doesn’t even acknowledge Chan’s words, only hearing them.

They approached a red light, and Chan turned his head to look at Jisung as they waited for the turn lane indicator to turn green. This one always took a while, so he could afford a quick glance. The blond was clenching and unclenching his fists, biting his bottom lip as he stared out the window and bounced one of his legs up and down erratically.

“Ji,” Chan whispered. Should he reach a hand out to him and calm him down? Would that be weird? “I can take you home if this is too much. I don’t want you to panic or do something you’re uncomfortable with.”

“It’s not that,” Jisung whines, barely audible over the music. He turns his head slowly and looks at Chan, continuing to chew at his lip. “You said we were close to your place, right?” It was hard to deny, but the way that Jisung looked at Chan so pleadingly was cloyingly adorable.

“Yeah,” Chan inanely scratches his face as he looks up to the traffic light. Still red. “Maybe only three minutes to go. Are you gonna be okay?”

Jisung bit back tears and groaned, throwing his head back a bit dramatically. “Fuck, yeah, I’m gonna be fine, I’m just…” his voice trailed off and he moved the waist of the seatbelt, pulling its tautness away from his abdomen. “I shouldn’t’ve drank that entire bottle of water.” His voice is weak, breathy, and expression goes from terrified to excited with a hint of nervousness, a coy smirk curling up at the corner of his lips. 

Oh, shit. Jisung was seriously going there, wasn’t he?

This was eerily similar to the manhwa that Chan could feel burning in his briefcase. There was no way that Jisung was bluffing when he said he read the entire thing, there were too many coincidences. The main character says something along those lines with similar mannerisms before he gets railed and he—

“Light’s green, teach,” Jisung doesn’t break eye contact, lips remaining parted after he speaks, eyes half-open.

“Shit,” Chan pressed a little too firmly down onto the gas pedal, blood coursing through his veins so hard, he was positive he could hear his blood rushing throughout his body. “I’m gonna get something clear now and it’s gonna sound pretty rude, but I don’t want to waste time.”

“What is it?” Jisung pants, adjusting his position in the seat, digging his thumbs into his waistband. 

A heavy sigh left Chan’s lips; he couldn’t believe he was about to ask a student something so blunt, so direct, but he had to. He needed to know. “How many people have you slept with?” He quickly follows up in a panic, “I’m not asking because I’m worried you’re carrying something, I just wanna know how experienced you are, what you’re comfortable with, what all I need—“

“Thirteen.”

Oh. Jisung’s bluntness, again, leaves Chan speechless. He blinks rapidly, trying to mentally digest that information, while trying to simultaneously rid his thoughts of the blond panting, crying, moaning underneath someone else. Maybe he liked being on top. Did he prefer being on top? There were thirteen others, he had to have some opinion about where he liked to be.

“How many students have you fucked?” Jisung counters.

Chan takes in a shaky, deep breath. “You really think I’d be this nervous if I fucked a student before, Ji?” A nervous laugh. “I was the loser nerd in high school and college that barely even had friends. Nobody wanted to be friend with the outsider from Australia that had a weird obsession with nerdy stuff.”

The blond leans in closer to the brunette, so close that his laboured breathing is clearly noticeable. “Have you slept with anyone at all before, _Mr. Bang?”_ The way Jisung drawls out Chan’s formal name causes him to grasp the steering wheel so tightly, he’s afraid it’s going to crack and dissolve in his hands. 

Chan bites his tongue, running it between his teeth, “I’ve only fucked one other person. It was a committed relationship. Three years. Then he left me for some younger dude. Wanted the sex to be freakier, even though we were pretty crazy as is.” One of his brows twitches at the thought of his ex, but he chooses to ignore everything about him. His ex didn’t matter right now, only Jisung did. “Anyway, you know the colour system, then? Safewords? Any of that?”

Jisung scoffs, reaching down to the centre console for a cigarette and Chan’s lighter, quickly bringing it to his lips and lighting it before the older man can protest. “You’d be surprised at all of the shit I’ve done, dude.” His eyes widen for a second, staring at Chan, then back to the road in front of them. “Sorry, I don’t really know what to call you right now. Things are getting a little personal.”

“It’s fine,” Chan dismissively waves a couple of his fingers up from the steering wheel. “If we’re gonna do this, we might as well get a little personal. You know? Just,” he pauses, rubbing his temples, “don’t call me Chan. Not yet.”

"Sure thing, Mr. Bang, though that sounds a little weirder, given the situation.” A puff of white smoke escapes the blond’s nose as he sarcastically huffs. “Anyway, yeah, I know the colour system. As long as you listen if I tell you yellow and red, I don’t care. I know you read ‘Am I Interesting?’, all the way up to at least volume four.” Chan awkwardly clears his throat and flushes a bit. “Why do you think I practically chugged nearly a litre of water during the drive? You and I both know what happens in the middle of volume three, and you wouldn’t have read volume four if you weren’t interested,” Jisung takes a drag from his cigarette and scoffs, “so, might as well bring it to life, yeah?”

If Chan could grit his teeth any harder, they would probably disintegrate. Silently, he thanks himself for getting off in the shower before he went into work, because with the way he figured tonight was going to go, he wouldn’t have lasted very long otherwise, which would have been embarrassing and disappointing, because Jisung deserved better. There’s no way he had satisfying sex with every single person he had been with. He was eighteen, for fuck’s sake.

“How many teachers have you slept with?” He doesn’t mean to sound dejected, but Chan asks his question timidly, with a bit of a whine.

Jisung pushes smoke through his teeth and winces, shifting awkwardly again. A moment passes, the air growing tense. “One. Didn’t have much of a choice, though.” Chan nearly slams on his brakes in the middle of the street. “Relax,” the blond shifts again out of discomfort. “He’s not at the school anymore. Someone found out he was coercing students into exchanging sexual favours for recommendation letters for universities.” A deep sigh. “They weren’t even good letters, but we didn’t know any better. We didn’t know to ask for the letter before giving ourselves up. We didn’t fucking know because we were sixteen. Seventeen. A couple were fucking fifteen.”

He takes a long, seething drag off of his cigarette and pulls his right sleeve up. There’s a sharp inhale before he takes the cigarette and brings the burning end to his skin and lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a moan and a scream, scaring the daylights out of Chan.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Chan shouts, trying to focus on the road as he grabs Jisung’s wrist in a panic.

“Chill out, dude,” Jisung calmly states, hissing as he presses his thighs together and discards the end of his cigarette out of the window. “This is something I do whenever I think about it. Is it healthy? No. Do I care? No. Do I want you trying to give a shit about me right now?” His eyes flit up and stare at Chan with seriousness and pain as the older man shakes his head, glancing at the road, then staring at Jisung, then glancing at the road again. “No feelings. Not now, okay? Please, dude.”

Chan aggressively exhales a quick breath through his teeth, absolutely furious. “I can’t idly sit by and just let you hurt yourself like this, Han.”

“We’re gonna go there? Alright, fine.” An exasperated sigh escapes Jisung’s lips. “You ever wonder why the other teachers let some students like me just get away with shit, like bleaching my hair? Why I never wear short sleeves, even though we’re supposed to during this time of year?” He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt and presents his arms to his teacher. There are neat, even scars littered across his left arm, likely from razor blades, then round, uneven, bumpy scars on his right arm, ones that matched the freshly-seared flesh he just marked into his arm. Chan barely looks at them, but the images are quickly tattooed into his mind.

He didn’t want to think about it, but Chan always suspected something was off about Jisung. The younger man never made an effort to get close to his classmates, he always wore long sleeves, but nobody forced him to conform, and the other teachers always talked about him in hushed tones in their meeting room. 

That’s when it finally clicked for Chan. 

Han Jisung was one of _those_ students. This was why the teachers referred to them, to _him_ , as a “high flight risk.”

The flight risk students weren’t at risk of running away. They were the ones that were loners, had a history of either being abused or abusing other students, they did poorly academically even if they were gifted. After a while, the new teachers stopped trying to save the flight risk students. They weren’t a flight risk because they were going to drop out. It was a fucking miracle if any of these students actually made it to graduation.

They were a flight risk because they were the ones that usually killed themselves.

Chan pulled into the parking garage of his apartment, not saying anything as he parked his car into his designated spot. He shifted his car into park and stared at the cement wall in front of him as his car idled quietly. The air in the car was tense as Chan chewed on the inside of his cheek.

“Jisung, I—“

“Chan, please,” the younger man whines, tears in his eyes. “I really don’t wanna have this conversation right now, because I’m seriously about to explode.”

There was a lot to unpack with that, but Chan shoved his thoughts to the side as he turned his car off, and undid his seatbelt. “Fine, fine. We’re talking about this later. You’re not damaging my newish car, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, please, fuck’s sake.” Jisung undid his seatbelt and practically jumped out of the car, immediately doubling over and letting out a strained groan.

Chan slammed his car door and swiftly made his way over to the younger man, rubbing his back. “Are you going to be alright?” He whispered, craning down a bit to be closer to the blond’s ear.

Jisung let out a tiny mewl. “Uh-huh. Just, please tell me your apartment isn’t too far away.”

“First floor. Fourth door to the right,” Chan circled his fingers around Jisung’s back, attempting to soothe him.

“You said colour system, right?” Jisung slowly reoriented himself, his face bright red and covered in sweat. 

Chan nodded his head. “Yeah, but why is that relevant?”

The younger man weakly smiled and stared his teacher down. “I sincerely hope your apartment isn’t carpeted.”

* * *

Usually, Chan would try to find one thing to be grateful for every day; it was something mindless to keep his mood up during his monotonous days that blurred together. Today, however, he was having a hard time picking just one reason to be grateful. Currently, he was grateful that the dining area of his apartment was rarely used and had a hard, cold concrete floor. 

They had rushed into preparing a scene, hastily discussing it from the parking garage, all the way up into the apartment. Jisung nervously paced around, undoing the top button of his pants. “I don’t care what you do, honestly. I just want you to make me miserable when I eventually piss myself all over your floor.” The thought made Chan’s head spin. “Then whip me with your belt like, I don’t know, twenty times.”

“That’s a lot, Ji,” Chan firmly pressed, trying to talk him out of it as he scrambled to find supplies.

“I can handle it,” the younger man whined as he stripped himself of his clothing. “Trust me, I’ve done stuff like this before. The bruising, the pain, the stinging. I know what it entails, that’s why we have the safewords.”

“Fine. Take this,” Chan rushes out of his bedroom and passes off a curved, black silicone device and some lube. “Don’t worry, it’s new, I haven’t even thought about using it yet.”

Jisung stared down at it and his brain short-circuited for a second. “Is this…?”

“Are you not okay with it?”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just…” his voice trailed off as he cocked his head to the side. “It’s pretty.”

Chan smiled, then ran off to fill a glass of water in the kitchen. “Good, good, go put it in. We don’t have a lot of time.”

* * *

“I didn’t say you could move,” the older man whispers down to his student, bringing his hand swiftly, firmly down to his bare ass. The collision causes the blond to shriek and a couple of tears to spill from his eyes. “Are you going to be a good boy and hold it all in until I’m done lecturing you?”

Jisung breathes heavily, in embarrassment from being completely naked and with the nice, curled vibrator lodged deep inside him, pressing against his prostate and his bladder. He was trying desperately to not shift or let his bladder leak out onto the floor, his cock achingly twitching as he somehow manages to whimper out an affirmation. “Yes, Sir, I’ll be your good boy, I promise.” He spreads all ten of his fingers out wide on the table, shifting slightly so his back stays flat, just like Chan requested.

Both of them knew that following orders was simply not something that Jisung did, he was a rebel and revelled in every second of it. It was only a matter of time before Chan would be scolding the younger man for making a mess of himself all over the floor. “Keep your hands and feet exactly where they are.” Chan takes a hardcover book and lines it up on Jisung’s back, making sure it was level and even, so that the plastic cup full of water he had subsequently placed on top of it, was level and wouldn’t spill. “If this cup falls off of you, or you leak at all, you understand you’ll be punished, correct?”

“Yes, Sir,” Jisung’s voice was shaky, anticipating what was coming.

“If you get a question wrong, you’ll also be punished.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Chan bit his lip and took in a deep breath. He grabbed the remote off of the table, holding it in between his fingers. He knew that, as soon as he turned the vibrator on, there would be an immediate reaction, and everything would be on its way towards deliciously falling apart. The older man was anticipating it, looking forward to the smaller, younger man collapse underneath him and beg for forgiveness. 

“Let’s start off easy, hmm?” Chan sits on the dining chair next to Jisung, crossing his legs and sitting upright. “What’s an example of an adverb?”

“A-adverb, describes a verb or an adjective, ahh.” Jisung’s voice is weak and breathy, slightly muffled due to him biting his lip as he kept all of his muscles as tense as possible. “Something like the word ‘harder’. Example: ‘I want you to fuck me harder’.”

“Good boy. Since you were so adamant about _A Clockwork Orange_ , let’s try some interesting vocabulary: aversion.”

Jisung hummed subconsciously has he tried to rack his brain for whatever the hell that word meant. “Noun,” he whines, “feeling of dislike, opposition. Repugnance. Very strong.” 

“Correct.” This was too easy. Chan sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth and thought for a moment, watching Jisung lightly twitch and quiver. “A harder one, now. Good luck, Ji. Vocabulary: recalcitrant.”

A soft gasp left Jisung’s throat as his brain went blank. It was oddly familiar, but it was out of his grasp. He remembered Chan teaching them the origin of the word. “Latin,” his smooth voice had said, “from _calcitare_ , which means ‘to kick’.” It wasn’t a verb, though. Noun? Adverb? No. An adjective? Without thinking, he started incoherently babbling his inane thoughts as more tears slipped down his face. He wasn’t going to be able to guess this properly, not in his fucked out state.

Chan’s lips curled up into a smile. It was a difficult word, but he ran a lecture on it recently, something about difficult words about being difficult. It simply meant ‘defiant of authority or restraint’. It was a fitting word, given their current situation. “I need an answer, Ji. If you don’t give me an answer,” he tsked and sarcastically shook his head once, “you’re going to have to pay the price.”

“I-I know it, I swear, Sir, please.” Jisung starts to panic, and the cup on his back wobbles a bit as he starts to quiver. “You taught me this. I remember. It was a few weeks ago. We were talking, ahh, about how it was relevant to political discourse. Revolutions. Fuck, please…”

“That’s not what I asked you, Jisung.” Chan’s voice is stern. He rolled his thumb against the silicone casing of the remote, ghosting over the soft buttons, ready to make Jisung shake. “What does recalcitrant mean?”

“I…” Jisung’s voice trails off and his knees buckle a little. “Fuck, does it mean rebellion?” He knew that was wrong. It was rebellious in nature, he knew that much, but nothing more was coming to him. Another tear slipped down his face as he pressed his fingertips firmly into the table, his fingernails starting to dig into the wood.

Nothing happens at first. Chan stands up, lightly grazing his fingers over Jisung’s shoulder blade as he slowly leaned in to his ear. “So close,” his voice is nearly silent, his breath breezing against the younger man’s ear causing all of the hairs on his body to raise, “but you’re wrong. It means, ‘obstinately defiant of authority’, like you’ve been for so long, Jisung.”

A click. 

A simple click is what causes everything to dissolve.

Jisung’s back arches as he slaps a hand on the table. He lets out a string of curses as the book and the cup practically leap off of his back. Chan is fast enough to save the book. putting it back onto the table. Nothing else mattered. Now, it was time for him to lovingly watch his student fall apart in front of him.

The blond’s knees buckled as he let out a sharp cry. He weakly slipped a bit down, and turned his head to look directly at Chan, who had an evil grin on his face as he tapped the remote a couple more times. There was no safeword mentioned, so he just watched as Jisung cried and let out silent pleas, digging his fingernails into the table. 

A deep crimson enveloped his face as he tightly shut his eyes and let out a gasp and a long, drawn out moan. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whined. Finally, after being uncomfortable for so long, his body relented and his bladder spilled out subconsciously. The stream was erratic, coming out in bursts and splatters, until it finally evened out, running steadily down to the floor as Jisung finally slipped all the way down to the floor, softly colliding to the ground.

The younger man bashfully covered his face as he sat in his puddle of piss and shame. Chan took a step back, making a deliberate attempt to seem disgusted. “What a filthy, messy boy, hmm? You’ve made a mess all about yourself and all over my apartment.” His heart was beating so hard, so loud, and he knew he was panting from all of the excitement and adrenalin coursing throughout him. Chan was finally watching this handsome young man fall apart, and it was all for him.

“What do you have to say for yourself, you filthy slut?”

Jisung snapped his face away from his hands, eyes wide and teary as he looked up at Chan. Shit, was name-calling too far? Chan was about to apologize, when Jisung brought his hands down to the floor, causing loud, messy splatters of the rapidly-cooling liquid to splash around. He crawled pathetically towards Chan, not breaking eye contact as he knelt in front of him.

“Sir,” he whined, glossy eyes trembling, “I’m so sorry. Please, if there’s anything I can do to earn your forgiveness, I’ll do it.” Jisung rested on his heels, his skin as shiny as the floor beneath him, both glistening in his urine. His face was damp with tears, still slightly pink, and his eyes were somewhat puffy from all of the tears.

It took everything for Chan to restrain himself and not fuck him into the floor right then and there. Instead, he took in a deep inhale, grabbing towels off of the table and tossing them haphazardly down in front of Jisung. “Clean your mess up off of the floor so I can give you your punishment, filthy boy. I’ve also decided that you’re not allowed to wipe yourself clean, not yet.” He can’t help it, but he flashes his teeth with a devious grin as he watches Jisung pout. “I’ll be nice and make sure you have a nice, long, lovely bath after we’re done, hmm?”

Jisung did as requested, as Chan leaned up against the wall, arms folded. He continuously changed the speed and the vibration patterns at random while Jisung tried his best to mop up every drop of liquid from the floor, but there were a couple of times he landed face-first against the concrete and whined. Chan kept bringing him closer and closer to orgasm, then he would turn off the vibrator completely, and it caused the cutest, most pathetic moan to erupt from the younger man’s throat. 

The last time Chan did it, Jisung smacked his hands against the floor in anger, and glowered up at him, seething and panting, but still not saying anything. Not until he was completely done with his task.“I cleaned your fucking floor, _Sir_.” The title was venomous, fully intending to communicate just how frustrated Jisung was with not being able to come yet. He wasn’t going to play the nice, innocent submissive role anymore, and he was making that very clear. 

“You have a safeword, you know.” The brunette was a bit concerned, honestly offering his student a lifeline he was worried was forgotten.

“I’m not done yet, Chan. This is nothing.”

Chan’s head cocked to the side, fingers tensing in irritation as Jisung, again, called him by his first name. “I never said you could call me by my name. Especially during our scene. You’ve done that twice now, and it’s disrespectful to your elder, Jisung.”

“Not letting me come and deliberately keeping me on edge is disrespectful, _Chan_.” Jisung bared his teeth and scowled. “Recalcitrance, teach.”

An aggravated huff escaped Chan’s lips as his face fell into a displeased scowl. “I’m giving you another chance to use your safeword. I’ll help you get off and get you cleaned up and we can do whatever you want.” He bends down, knees cracking as he meets Jisung at eye level, grabbing his chin and tugging him forward. “That offer still stands, obviously, throughout whatever we’re about to do, but this is your last chance to stop before we really go all in.”

Jisung sneers and lets his lips curl up into a grin. “Do your worst, _Chan_.”

Chan shakes his head in discontent, then pushes Jisung to the floor, pressing his face down against the concrete just hard enough to cause discomfort, but not enough to actually harm him. “I’m going to correct that attitude out of you, no matter what it takes, you insolent brat.”

“I dare you,” Jisung whispers, looking up at Chan from the floor, still smirking.

There was nothing more than Chan wanted to do than edge the younger man beneath him for hours on end — maybe even until sunrise — but, going easy on someone he wasn’t that sexually acquainted with yet was probably the safest option. He would wait for the more extreme things until next time, if he was graced with the option of a next time.

“On your fucking hands and knees,” Chan spits out. “You’re going to be a good boy and stay still for as long as I see fit. Understood?”

“Oh, yes, _Sir_.” Jisung mocks as he shifts into the position he was ordered into.

Chan grits his teeth, taking a couple of steps around the bare man on his floor, trying not to stare at how soft, clear, and unmarked Jisung’s skin was. He didn’t have the mental capacity to dwell on it, not when he needed to focus on implementing punishment. The older man takes in a long, steady breath as he undoes his belt, slowly pulling it out of each belt loop of his slacks until it’s free. The leather strap sways back and forth in the air as Chan holds it out. 

Was he seriously about to do this?

No, he shakes his head, it was too late to pull back from this. He had promised punishment, and that’s what he was about to do. With a bit of care, he folds the belt in half and grasps it tightly in his hand, kneeling down in front of Jisung’s well-shaped thighs and ass. It took everything in Chan to keep himself restrained as he reached for the prostate massager that was in front of him, the black silicone causing him to take a deep breath in as he imagined how it felt inside of Jisung.

Slowly. He pulled the toy out tauntingly slowly, which earned him a few mewls and tremors from the smaller man in front of him. “Why are you taking that out? I thought you were punishing me?”

“That’s not a part of the punishment we decided earlier, hmm?” Chan set the small silicone device to the side and softly brought his palm to Jisung’s thigh. It truly seemed that every square centimetre of this man was beautiful, even the damaged bits that were scarred and abused from years of pain.

That wasn’t important now. What was important was to stay focused. Questions and deep feelings could come during aftercare.

Chan cleared his throat as he stood up. “Tell me your colours.”

“Green is fine,” Jisung shook his head and sighed, “yellow for a break, red for stop.”

“What’s the number we agreed upon?” Chan’s palms were starting to sweat from anticipation. This was happening. This was _seriously_ happening.

Jisung curled his fingers into the floor. “Ten for the spilled water. Another ten for pissing all over your floor. So, twenty in total, Sir.”

“Good boy.” Chan clenched his fists, digging his fingers into the belt in his hands. “You’re going to count out loud, correct?”

“Yes, Sir.”

They both took a minute to compose themselves, and Chan took a step to the side, readying the belt into a stable loop, and finding the angle that would work best from this position. “Let’s get started.”

Immediately after the words left his lips, Chan pulled his right arm back, winding up the belt, swinging it at a gentle speed, landing the leather up against the top of Jisung’s thighs.

“Is that it?” The younger man quips. “One.”

“You’re going to regret being such a goddamn brat.” Chan tuts, then prepares another swing, aiming and striking the same spot as before. 

There was a slight twitch, but Jisung was trying to hide his discomfort. “Whatever. Two.”

“You’ll be begging me to be gentler, give it time.” Another strike.

Another wince. “Yeah, yeah. Three.”

Chan stops saying anything, focusing on the micro-movements that Jisung makes as he slowly loses his composure with each strike. 

Jisung loses his cocky façade and composure more and more with each strike.

“T-thirteen,” the younger man whines, dropping his right arm to his elbow as tears come slipping down his face.

Chan steps back, allowing them both to breathe. “Colour?”

“It’s green, Sir,” he whimpers, “it just hurts.”

“Punishments aren’t supposed to be comfortable.” Part of Chan felt guilty for making his student feel so pained, but this was what they agreed upon, and he wasn’t going to let up unless Jisung specifically told him to. It may have seemed like the opposite, but, truly, Jisung had all of the power here. He shook his head, knowing he needed to stay composed. “You should have thought of that before you broke the rules, hmm? Back upright, now.”

It took a moment, but Jisung found the energy to bring himself back upright. “Yes, Sir,” he says, shaken but attempting to be composed. There were seven more to go, he was past the halfway mark at this point. 

Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen.

“Seventeen!” Jisung cried out, his entire body collapsing onto the floor. 

Chan bit his lip, thankful that Jisung couldn’t see the concern in his face. “Ji, are you sure that you’re—“

“It’s fucking green, just give me a second,” the blond hissed. His face was bright red, eyes bloodshot and his cheeks stained with tears. “I need this. Please,” he lifts his head up off of the ground, gazing longingly to his superior. “I know it’s fucked up, but it makes me feel better.”

_Aftercare, Chan. Save the deep emotions for aftercare._

He constantly mentally reassured himself that he could get through this. His sessions with his ex never left him feeling this emotionally distraught. Something about the way that Jisung completely allowed himself to fall apart in front of him broke his heart, but also made him feel trusted, knowing that someone was allowing themselves to be so vulnerable with him. It seemed counterintuitive, but it also warmed his heart.

“Upright,” Chan sternly commanded, careful to not break eye contact with Jisung. He had to maintain that cold persona, just for three more strikes. Then they could loosen up, fall apart; maybe they’d fuck, maybe not.

A long sigh left Jisung’s lips as he slowly, shakily made his way up to his hands and knees. He shook his head rapidly, then inhaled sharply. “I’m ready, Sir.”

The echo of leather against skin seemed louder for the next strike.

“Eighteen.” Jisung clenched his teeth, furrowed his brows.

“Nineteen.” He curled his fingers, balling his hands into fists. Both men took in deep breaths in anticipation for what was about to come. This was it.

“Twenty.”

The belt fell from Chan’s hands faster than Jisung could collapse to the ground. Chan was there, catching his fall, scooping him up into his grasp. “You did so well, Ji. I’m so proud of you.” The brunette cooed, rocking the younger man back and forth as he sobbed into his chest. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Jisung sniffled, grasping onto Chan’s button up shirt, clutching it tightly. “It was a lot,” he gasped, “but I needed it. Thank you, Sir.”

“Chan,” the older man whispered, resting his cheek against the top of Jisung’s head. “Just call me Chan, now. I think we crossed that boundary a long time ago.”

The two of them sat there on the floor, wrapped up in each other for an extensive period of time. The amount of time that passed didn’t matter at all; what mattered is that Jisung was finally relaxed enough and no longer tense.

“So,” Chan rubs his thumb in a circle against the younger man’s back. “How about you come with me, and I’ll run a bath, get you cleaned up and then we’ll go from there, yeah?”

Jisung doesn’t say anything, just nods twice and makes a noncommittal whimper.

Chan carries him off to the washroom, gently setting him down on the floor next to the bathtub as he starts to run it, steam coming up in rolling waves as water splashes against the porcelain. Jisung brings a finger to his mouth, aimlessly nibbling at the nail as he stares at Chan. 

“Why are you doing this for me?”

The brunette grabs a washcloth off of a nearby rack, wetting it under the faucet, and he turns to Jisung. “Can I?” He offers his hand with the washcloth up, and the blond nods his head. “This is proper aftercare. This is what should be done, every time, after something like that.” The way that Chan softly wipes off Jisung’s skin is interesting, the complete polar opposite to how he was behaving not long ago. His touches are tender, soft, delicate, and with purpose.

Jisung rolls his head back against the tiling of the wall, a bit embarrassed that he was being treated with so much care. “Not that. I know all about that,” he sighs and closes his eyes. “I mean, Chan, I’m just a student. I know the teachers say shit about me behind my back since the incident last year. Something about a ‘flight risk’ or whatever the hell they call it.”

Chan tenses, stilling his movements. Did he really want to tell Jisung about the things he had heard?

“I take it there’s some truth to that, then, yeah? You look like you just saw a ghost.” Jisung turns his head back and they lock eyes with each other for a moment. 

“Give me your arm,” Chan mutters, and Jisung obliges. “I’m going to be honest, because you deserve to know that much. Yes, the teachers keep a list of students that have been in…” he chews the inside of his cheek and closes his eyes, “hazardous circumstances. They’re high-risk. They don’t make it to graduation, most of the time. Not because they run away, but—“

“They take their own lives.” Jisung’s voice is cold. Curt. “Last year, when the scandal broke out, my friend Seungmin couldn’t take it. Details on most of us weren’t released, but someone wanted to get back at him for some bullshit reason. Smeared his name all over campus, ruined his reputation. It was right before the end of the day when he let go of the rooftop railing. Took his last breath. Took flight.” Jisung scoffed. “Must be where the term ‘flight risk’ came from. The older teachers are really fucked up for that one.”

The two don’t maintain eye contact, and Chan continues to wipe Jisung clean. After a bit, he stops the faucet and helps the younger man to his feet and into the bath. He steps back, fully intending on letting him have this moment to himself, content with just sitting there and talking, but Jisung grabs a strong hold on Chan’s arm, pulling him forward.

Chan loses his balance on the slick floor, and crashes into the water up against Jisung’s body, and the blond pulls him into an embrace. “Aftercare is important for you, too, you know.”

“You could have let me take my clothes off, first,” Chan whines, but doesn’t move much, only enough to undo his wristwatch and lazily drop it over the side of the bathtub.

“Yeah,” Jisung cackles, “but where’s the fun in that?”

Chan ends up removing his clothes, letting the sopping mess just lay in a damp pile on the floor. He shifted behind Jisung, making sure he could cuddle him into a tight embrace. 

“You know all about me,” the blond whispers, resting his head back on the brunette’s shoulder, looking up to him as he softly brings his fingertips to touch the side of Chan’s face. “I know next to nothing about you. You’re 24, from Australia, but your family is Korean. You were a little bit of a loner, too. You’ve only dated and been with one guy. But there’s so much more to you, I know it.”

“Ji,” Chan sighed, turning to look away, but Jisung pressed his fingertips into Chan’s cheek, forcing them to look at each other. 

“You don’t need to tell me everything, Chan,” he nuzzles his head up into the crook of his senior’s neck, “but I want to know at least a little more about you. Seems right after all of this.”

Chan’s cheek puffed out a bit as he huffed. “Well,” he sighed, resting his head against the wall, “my parents wanted me to do my best. They only cared that I got a bachelor’s degree and had some sort of respectable career. They were thrilled when they found out I was moving back here, but they thought being a teacher was kind of stupid.

“‘That’s not going to help you run our business someday,’ my father would say. He’s still adamant that I’m gonna take over for him one day, but I’m not sold on it. I want nothing to do with their stupid family business.” Chan’s head slowly drifted down until it was resting on top of Jisung’s. They sat there for a while, until the water started to slightly chill. “I know that the pressure is tough. It gets a little better when you’re in university, but it’s still going to be there.”

“That’s why I don’t want to do it.”

Chan wanted to tell him to simply not go to university, then, but he couldn’t set someone up for a lifetime of failure. For the first time all night, he was at a complete loss for words.

* * *

Jisung didn’t talk at all after they laid down, curled up under Chan’s plush comforter. The moonlight embraced them in a soft light, just enough to see each other, but not well enough to make out any details. He moulded himself right up into Chan’s torso, and the older man wrapped his arms around the smaller, younger man. They tightly knitted themselves within each other and quietly laid there for a few moments, before Chan finally broke the silence.

“Ji,” he whispered directly into the blond’s ear, “promise me you’re gonna stop pretending to being so bad at your work from now on. I don’t want to see you go down this destructive path where you try to take it out on everyone by ruining your own future.”

“The fuck do you know?” Jisung mutters. His voice isn’t angry or irritated, at least not at Chan, he simply sounds tired. “You made it through high school. Made it through university. I bet your family still loves you even if you’re not exactly the way they want you to be, yeah?”

Chan knows better than to say something. He wants to try and correct Jisung, to tell him that his life could easily look up with a bit more time, that there was more to life than getting into a top university. However, he knew the cruel truth of reality: society didn’t work like that. Society thrived by claiming the bright, beautiful lights of creativity and swallowing them whole, forcing everyone into a boring life of monotony. Chan had fallen for the trap, and he was all too familiar with the miserable life Jisung had ahead of him.

“Jisung,” Chan pulls away from the younger man, causing him to let out a soft whine. The older man crawls on top of his junior, rolling him over from his side to his back. He couldn’t stop the crushing reality from eventually crumbling on top of Jisung, but he could try to help him feel a little less terrible for a while longer.

This was the moment.

The two men stared at each other in the moonlight, drinking in each others’ appearances. There was this pull of desire that brought them closer to each other, completely different than what they had just experienced while they had their scene earlier, while they were caring for each other in the bath. Chan slowly bent down, bringing his face close to Jisung’s. “I’m gonna kiss you,” he whispered, his lips practically brushing up against Jisung’s as he spoke. “Are you okay with that?”

Jisung scoffed, his warm breath causing Chan’s face to tingle. “You just beat me around with your belt twenty times until I cried and we were just naked together in the tub. I think it’ll be fine if you kiss me a little bit.” He doesn’t wait for Chan to kiss him, however, he takes the initiative and brings his hands up to his teacher’s neck, pulling him down.

Their lips awkwardly brushed up against each other, and Jisung wasted no time opening his mouth and pressing his tongue in the space where Chan’s lips came together. The older man was a bit pensive at first, but opened his mouth wider in response, and their tongues rolled around with each other, dancing around almost like the wax moving around in a lava lamp. Each movement was slow and deliberate; Chan was handling Jisung like he was a glass vase ready to shatter.

Jisung didn’t want to be treated as fragile; it was insulting.

The younger man grabbed his teacher by the shoulders and rolled him onto his back, straddling him and breaking away from their kiss. “I don’t wanna wait anymore, Chan.” It was hard to see, but Jisung’s chest was rapidly rising and falling, his lips slightly parted as he ground down against Chan’s pelvis. “It’s my turn to make you cry.”

* * *

The bruises were starting to form on Jisung’s thighs and ass, but the discomfort somehow added a layer of pleasure to the way all of his nerves felt like they were vibrating, full of life. “Chan,” the vowel was hyperextended, drawn out dramatically as Jisung threw his head back, resting on the palms of his hands as he slowly lifted his hips up the length of the cock inside of him. As he got up to the tip, he tilted his chin into his chest, looking up at Chan, leaning up against the headboard.

They maintained eye contact, as Jisung stayed still for just a moment, and then quickly brought himself back down, colliding his sore legs against Chan’s torso. Both of them let out shuddering moans, and Jisung brought himself back upright, clumsily bringing his hands up into the soft, brown hair of the man next to him.

Their lips came together again as Jisung slowly rode Chan up and down. This kiss was much less soft and well-intentioned: it was sloppy, passionate, needy. Chan reached his hands out, grabbing Jisung’s waist, guiding him up and down against him. “You feel incredible,” he whined, “so, so good.”

“You like fucking your student, huh?” Jisung teased, a slight smile rising on his face. 

“Don’t do that right now.” Chan sighed. “The dynamic between us isn’t important.” Another quick, needy kiss. “Right now, you’re just Jisung,” a pant, “I’m just Chan.” A small mewl from Jisung. “It’s just you and me.” He reached his hand down to lightly stroke Jisung in time with their hip movements. “Me and you. Nobody else in the world matters.”

Jisung’s back arched and he let out a high-pitched whine. His eyes darted around in a panic until they finally settled on Chan’s. He reached down to his hip, grabbing Chan’s hand and bringing it to his face, interlacing their fingers together. “I’m gonna come,” his voice is breathy, motions erratic.

“Me too, Ji,” Chan gripped Jisung’s fingers tighter. “You can come. It’s alright, I promise.”

With a couple more thrusts, the blond came undone first, spilling warm streaks of cum all over his senior, all over the sheets, like it had been a buildup that had been accumulating for days. He shuddered and whined as Chan continued to move inside him for a few more thrusts, until he let out a couple of gasps and his body stuttered, filling the condom around him. “Jisung, Ji…” he moaned out, trying to keep eye contact with the younger man as they gripped each others’ hands so hard that their knuckles had turned white.

When they both slowly came back to, Jisung let his weight fall against Chan, giving him a tired, but compassionate kiss. “That was amazing,” he sighed as he rolled down onto Chan’s chest, keeping their fingers interlocked within one another. “I know I’ve been with a lot of people and that probably concerned you, but that was by far the best experience I’ve had to date.”

Chan rolled his eyes a bit, not quite sure if he believed the younger man’s words. It wasn’t important if it was serious or not, though, he figured, bringing up his free hand to caress Jisung’s hair. He would take the compliment and the ego boost, at least for now. “Honestly, this entire night is probably the best experience I’ve had, even comparing it to someone I was with for three years. Thank you for being vulnerable with me, for trusting me.”

“Thanks for beating the shit out of me earlier.” Jisung smiles against Chan’s skin.

“Don’t phrase it like that,” Chan sleepily whines, pulling out of Jisung. He slips the condom off and ties it, throwing it into his bedside waste bin. They shift a bit down on the bed, and Chan manages to pull the comforter over both of them, pulling Jisung into a tight, warm embrace against his chest. “Saying that I beat the shit out of you makes it sound like I’m abusive.”

“Only to people that don’t skirt the line of morally sound and morally reprehensible.”

Tonight was the fourth time Chan was going to have to wash his sheets this week. This time, though, he didn’t care. It was worth it. He’d wash his sheets as many times as he had to if it meant he could have a night like tonight in exchange.

**Author's Note:**

>  **end note:** this isn’t entirely representative of how schools on south korea work. I simply took a little creative licence for some things because finding reliable information was difficult for some things.
> 
> consider leaving a comment. they make my day. ♡


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